


Love Me Like You Do

by The_lazy_eye



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst with a Sex Ending, Angsty elements, Canon Divergence, Emotional handjobs in the hammock, First Kiss, Handjobs in the hammock, M/M, Smut, admitting feelings, adult reddie, emotional smut, handjobs, that's basically it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 16:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20585585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_lazy_eye/pseuds/The_lazy_eye
Summary: “I need you hear you say it.”“I want it,” Eddie says back. He’s surprised by his own words, how concrete they sound, how they break through the wall of nerves that’s shrouded over him.Richie, in all of his confident-not-confidence, leans down and kisses Eddie. It’s gentle at first, the rough chap of his lips barely grazes Eddie’s over moisturized ones but the electricity rockets down his spine and bursts into tiny electrodes all over his body. He immediately leans up, chases Richie’s retreating form and captures him in a kiss that Eddie never knew he was capable of giving.





	Love Me Like You Do

“Richie, I –”

“It’s okay,” Richie says back. His voice is soft in the quiet darkness and it wraps Eddie up in small cocoons of comfort and thrumming anxiety. He can feel Richie’s heartbeat thumping faster than his own where they’re pressed together. “It’s gonna be fine.”

The cavern of Eddie’s mouth goes dry at those words.  _ It’s gonna be fine _ . How can he know that? How can he be so confident that everything is going to work out? 

Eddie isn’t confident. Eddie is withering away beneath him, flaking off into small pieces of dust that will remain on the clubhouse floor for the rest of eternity. No one will find him down here. They’ll all forget, forget,  _ forget  _ about him. 

Eddie knows Richie, though. He knows the way his body is shaking all over and the way the tone of his voice never quite reaches his eyes. They shine in the dim light from the flashlight they have perched in the corner. They’re wide and glistening and Eddie can see a million words racing behind his irises, words he’ll never hear out loud. A silent song written just for him. A song sung with gentle touches and looks rather than words. 

Richie shifts his weight and the hammock swings back and forth, gentle and becoming. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he says, voice still that same, quiet stillness and it’s at this moment Eddie realizes he hasn’t said anything. He’s just been staring up into those beautiful blue eyes, lost in his thoughts and fears. 

He nods once and the force of it causes the hammock to sway again. 

“I need you hear you say it.”

“I want it,” Eddie says back. He’s surprised by his own words, how concrete they sound, how they break through the wall of nerves that’s shrouded over him. 

Richie, in all of his confident-not-confidence, leans down and kisses Eddie. It’s gentle at first, the rough chap of his lips barely grazes Eddie’s over moisturized ones but the electricity rockets down his spine and bursts into tiny electrodes all over his body. He immediately leans up, chases Richie’s retreating form and captures him in a kiss that Eddie never knew he was capable of giving. 

A switch flips, then, and they become less like stiff boards of word stacked on top of each other and more like desperate lovers lost in the darkness of their own emotions. Eddie’s hands clench at the back of Richie’s shirt and Richie’s fingers find their way to Eddie’s hips. He grips, digging his thumbs into the space between the bone and the feeling sends sparks of  _ something  _ throughout Eddie’s entire body. It’s intoxicating and overwhelming and so fucking right. It’s so fucking  _ Richie  _ and Eddie can’t believe they’ve waited this long when it was so undeniable. Why were they fighting so hard? Why were they being so stupid?

Eddie loses himself in it. Richie, on top of him, the warmth of his body radiating into the space between his atoms. 

Something spills onto the skin under Eddie’s eye and rolls down to his ear. Another droplet follows, and another, and then he realizes that Richie is crying. His lower lip is quivering where it’s connected with Eddie’s. When Eddie opens his eyes he sees that Richie’s are clenched shut, moisture gathering in the corners and on his lashes.

Richie sucks in a wet breath and says, “It’s always been you,” before letting his lips brush over Eddie’s again, back to that gentle trepidation they felt only moments ago. “All these years, it’s only been you. Even when I couldn’t remember the color of your eyes or the shape of your face, I couldn’t forget you. Never forget you.”

“Richie…” 

“Never forget you,” he whispers again, dragging his lips down the side of Eddie’s neck. He doesn’t kiss or bite or suck, just lets himself  _ feel  _ the way they’re pressed together. The intimacy of the moment saturates the air and threatens to choke them both out.

Eddie’s hands make their way to Richie’s hair and tangle themselves there. It’s softer than he imagined it would be, curling around his fingers and catching every so slightly. 

Richie changes pace, then. He presses his lips more firmly to Eddie’s pulse point, captures the skin between his teeth ever so gently, soothes his tongue around the area. Gooseflesh breaks out by the millions across Eddie’s body at the feeling of it and Richie keeps going. Keeps kissing and nipping and licking his way down to Eddie’s collar bone before he sinks his teeth in there, properly bites down and drags an involuntary moan straight from the back of Eddie’s throat. 

His hips find Richie’s on their own. Maybe they were slotted together this whole time, maybe Eddie knew the perfect way to move to connect them. Either way, when he rolls his hips he feels Richie between them. He’s just as hard as Eddie is, just as desperate and wanting. 

A sound catches in the back of Richie’s throat and Eddie pulls him up to swallow it whole. He feels greedy in the way he kisses Richie but he can’t help it. Twenty-seven years and counting, all of it flooding back and hitting him like a bullet in the back. The longer he’s with Richie the bigger he feels. It’s seeping from the floorboards and getting ready to consume them both. 

“The others must be wondering where we are,” he finds himself saying. “Fuckers wouldn’t believe their damn eyes if they caught us down here.”

Richie laughs, tension bleeding from his body. “Yeah, well, they can hold their god damn horses. I’ve got more important things to focus on right now.”

He punctuates his statement by rolling his hips in one fluid motion. Any joke Eddie had loaded up vanishes, his mind blanking with nothing but the pleasure behind that movement. He feels so pent up and he knows Richie feels it, too, because when he meets him up on the second motion he sees Richie’s eyes roll straight into the back of his head. 

They set a rhythm, humping like fucking teenagers in one of the places they grew up in. The nostalgia of it threatens to break the moment but Eddie can’t keep his train of thought straight. Sure, yeah, they grew up down here but it’s only fitting. The hours they’ve spent in this very hammock, the secret touches and the stolen glances. 

Fuck, Eddie’s surprised it’s even holding up this well. Structurally speaking, this shit should have rotted and fallen apart years ago. It’s like this place is preserved, untouched by the natural order of the world. It makes him wonder what else has been kept alive by the magic in Derry, what else has been touched by the forces that sleep beneath the surface of this town. 

He can’t wonder for long, though, because suddenly Richie is shifting his weight and Eddie feels a startlingly empty space above him. His stomach feels cold without Richie there and he almost reaches up to drag him back down until he sees what Richie is actually doing. 

He’s on his knees, balance almost betraying him as the hammock shifts back and forth in short, jerky movements. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead that glistens in the dim lighting. His hands are on his belt, frantically trying to undo the latch. Once he’s got it, he pulls the whole thing out in a swift motion and tosses it across the room. 

Then, he looks down at Eddie and whispers, “Is this okay?”

He can’t talk anymore. The words are stuck in the back of his throat, stuck behind a lump of something bigger than himself. 

He nods. 

Richie continues to work on his own jeans, shoving them down around his hips before his hands go to Eddie’s belt. He undoes it, slow and careful, before he pulls the zipper down. 

He glances once more up to Eddie, eyes asking permission, telling him that if he wants to stop, they can stop. It doesn’t have to go this far. It can just be them, together in this clubhouse and that’s all it needs to be; but Richie is straining against his boxers and Eddie feels like he can’t breathe so instead of doing some whacked out impression of a bobble head, Eddie knocks Richie’s hands away and pulls himself out into the chill air. 

Richie takes in the sight of Eddie, not quite naked but close enough despite them both still being fully clothed. If it wasn’t Richie, Eddie would wither away into nothing at the feeling of being stared at. No one else has ever been able to make him feel like this: so confident and sure and ready. 

He takes in Richie and then takes  _ out  _ Richie and then they’re together again, pressed up against each other while Richie’s mouth finds his. It’s another desperate kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and  _ I love you  _ and  _ I missed you _ . 

Then, without warning, Richie snakes a hand between them and lines them both up. His hands are bigger than Eddie’s but softer. It’s almost shocking; he expected them to be coarse and rough and calloused but they’re softer than Eddie could have ever imagined. The feeling of Richie sliding against them is like silk and it sends shivers throughout his entire body until he’s shaking so hard he can’t see straight. 

“Fuck, fuck, Richie,” he chants into the space and Richie grunts in time with him. His voice is gruff and packed with words that have no meaning. Eddie gets lost in it. He gets lost in everything that is Richie. 

“Eds, I can’t,” he practically sobs into Eddie’s neck. Damp breath adds to the sweat beginning to form all over Eddie’s body. 

“It’s okay, Rich,” Eddie breathes in response, feeling his own release begin to build and chase Richie’s. “Me, too.”

“I can’t,” he sobs again and his hand moves faster, twisting at the head and squeezing them both on the down stroke. “I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t,” Eddie says, “I’ve got you. We’re here. I’m yours.”

He moans between statements, words getting lost in the heat of the room. Richie’s words break off from sobs to desperate repetitions of Eddie’s name. He chants them in time with his strokes and the suddenly Eddie is right there. He’s on the cusp of it all and his face feels numb. He can feel tingling all the way to the tips of his toes and heat pooling in the bottom of his stomach. Listening to Richie say his name in that tone, the way it drips in grieving desperation, cuts him deep like a knife. He hadn’t realized they’d been grieving for the last three decades until right now. Both of them, wrapped up in each other and finally letting go.

“ _ Richie _ ,” Eddie moans and then he’s gone. The coil inside of him snaps and all he can see is white, all he can feel is heat. It’s so much, it wracks over him in ways it never has before. He only knows that Richie follows him from the way he feels his stomach painted a second time and the sound of Richie’s own voice bouncing off of the walls. 

When he comes down, the first thing he notices is how Richie has stripped his over-shirt off and used it to clean the mess. The second thing he notices is the way Richie is looking at him like he’s everything that’s golden in the world. The fear has bled out of him and, in this moment, he’s unrestrained from the outside world. Nothing can touch them in here. Nothing can break down these walls and hurt them. In here, it’s just the two of them. No tokens, no demon clown, no waiting friends. 

Down here, they’re perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hammock sex started as a group joke and then got emotionally serious very fast.
> 
> Anyway Richie and Eddie loved each other and it makes sense for them given the new movie and how gay they are for each other. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Come chat with me at reddie-for-anything.tumblr.com !


End file.
